Author's note: I've appended an updated Carter family tree at the end of this chapter. Look, when you write a generational story that spans nearly a century, there ends up being a lot of characters! :-D Hopefully this will help everyone keep them straight.
February 14, 2011
"Michael Steven Carter!" Peggy said in tones of horror as their son edged his way through the crowd of people in the dining room holding a generous slice of cake on a paper plate.
"What?" he asked Peggy, licking frosting off his finger casually as he came to sit down at the table next to them. "It's my cake."
"It's your sister's cake too, and she isn't here yet!" Peggy was glaring at him with that indescribable mother's glare that had once wilted Mike like lettuce in the hot sun, but now seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. "We haven't even sang the song!"
"I saved enough for her," Mike assured her blithely as he took a big bite. "Come on, Mom. I've been waiting 65 years to eat this."
"Well, another hour wouldn't have killed you."
"It might have."
"Oh, honestly!"
Peggy wasn't really annoyed, of course, although for the last half hour the adults had been steadfastly refusing the pleas of nearly every child in the house to serve the cake that had been brought in to celebrate Mike and Sarah's shared 65th birthday, as well as Mike's retirement as a trainer for S.H.I.E.L.D.
It was a big milestone, and the family had gone all out to celebrate. Steve and Peggy had had cause to regret having their children in the winter, since it meant they now had nearly 50 people crowding inside their house for the gathering. Thankfully, the older kids had braved the chilly England weather to kick a soccer ball around outside, after Jim and Phil had taken turns choosing their siblings and cousins to play on their respective teams in what was obviously a very solemn ritual for them.
But the younger kids were inside making a ruckus as the adults tried to visit while they awaited the return of Sarah, who was missing from her own party.
She wasn't the only one missing, either. While Joaquim and Rita were clearly having the time of their lives running around playing with their newly adopted cousins, their parents were nowhere to be seen. That was because Beatrisa and Steven were back at their home in Rocinha, having called Sarah at 5 o'clock in the morning to report that Beatrisa was having strong, persistent contractions. Sarah had immediately packed up her medical bag and portaled over to Rocinha. That had been six hours ago, and at this point the rest of them were all on pins and needles, just waiting for the good news.
As far as excuses for missing a family party went, it was a pretty good one.
"Big news, Mom and Dad," Mike said. By now, most of the cake on his plate had been demolished. "Me and Tien are celebrating my retirement by moving."
"Moving?" Dave asked from Mike's other side, visibly surprised. Steve and Peggy were less so, but they held their tongues; they hadn't yet shared Steve's detailed record of the next 12 years with everyone else in the family. "Where to?"
"Dunno yet. D.C. area, probably."
"Wait a minute," Dave said. "You just retired from your job in D.C., and now you're moving from Vietnam to there?"
"Not D.C. itself," Mike clarified. "Probably somewhere between there and New York. Maybe Philadelphia or thereabouts."
"Why?" It was true that three of their four kids were living in America now, but with Tien's sling ring, that hardly mattered in terms of their ability to visit everyone.
Mike shrugged a broad shoulder. "Since Tien's dad died last year, there isn't as much reason for us to stay in Vietnam. And... to tell you the truth, I wanna be close to the action. Just in case."
Dave paused. "You mean..."
"It isn't just about the Uprising," Mike said quickly. "Although, yes, it is about that. But it's Sharon, too. I feel like I need to get close to her, to make sure she's ready when it happens. And it'll get harder and harder to make up excuses for why I'm always popping across the ocean just to see a niece. It's not like we can explain to her about the portals."
Steve shifted his weight in his seat and didn't say anything. It had never really sat easy with him, keeping Sharon out of the family loop like this. He didn't see any way around it, though. Sharon had clearly not known about her connection to Steve back when he was young. Otherwise, what had happened at the airport in Germany wouldn't have happened.
File it under the list of things he wished he'd known back then. And yet, he couldn't completely be sorry about it. Sharon had been a flash of sunlight in his life during times that had otherwise been dim. Much like Nat, she'd been one of the few friends he'd been able to rely on to always stand by his side, no matter what. And she had had that same intriguing blend of softness and fierceness that Peggy herself had...
With well-practiced discipline, he put that thought right out of his head. How he felt about Sharon's situation wasn't important. It was in her interests to be kept in the dark, considering that she brushed shoulders with Hydra agents at work on a regular basis. In many ways, her ignorance was her safety. And one day, she would know. One day they would tell her everything.
And then she'd probably be as furious with him as he had been at her the day he'd discovered his next-door neighbor "Kate" was not a nurse after all.
"Ba-ba!"
Distracted from his thoughts, Steve glanced over to see a dark-haired baby, walking but still wobbly, emerge through the arched doorway from the living room wearing nothing but a diaper: the newest member of the family, Clint and Karma's little boy, who everyone had quickly nicknamed "T.O." Steve smiled and waved his fingers at T.O., who promptly smiled back proudly with all four of his teeth before turning around and charging back into the living room with all the grace of a Spanish bull. A few moments later, the pleasant piano music that had been wafting through the air from the next room over turned into a dissonant cacophony, and they heard Sammy utter a startled sound as she abruptly stopped playing.
"Hands off!" they heard Clint growl, and a second later the clanging chords stopped and T.O. let out an unhappy squeal.
Peggy touched Steve's shoulder, drawing his attention. "Let's move into the other room, darling," she murmured. "These chairs are getting too hard for comfort. I need to stretch my legs."
He couldn't disagree, and so they got up and made their way into the living room. Sammy was at the piano, having resumed her song, and both her children were sitting on the floor with Maggie's Kate, the three of them intent on a game of Go Fish. Clint was standing by the piano holding T.O., who pouted and pushed against his chest impatiently, trying to get away and get back down. Finally, Clint let him back down... only to watch him make a reckless dash for the piano again.
"You little monster!" Clint said, and swooped him up with one hand hooked under his armpit.
"Here, I'll distract him," Maggie said from the couch, holding out her hands eagerly.
"No, let me take him," Sammy said quickly from the piano bench, holding out her hands too. "If he wants to play, I'll help him play." Clint handed T.O. over, and Sammy settled him on her lap and then held him by the wrists, helping him play just one key at a time. T.O. giggled with delight at the sounds he was making, and Clint looked visibly relieved as he sat back down next to Maggie and Henry on the couch.
"For the record, Clint's the one with superhuman patience with this raging bilgesnipe," Karma said with open affection from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, wearing a sleeveless yellow sundress that showed off the newest tattoo on her shoulder. Steve knew the shape very well, having once drawn it himself: a triquetra, the three gracefully interlocking loops that had sometimes appeared on Mjolnir. Karma had gotten the tattoo not long before she'd given birth to T.O. last summer, and Steve was the only one in the family who hadn't been surprised by it, or by the baby's name. During those months of pregnancy, each time Steve had gone to see Karma, she had managed to turn the conversation to Asgard and peppered him with questions about Thor. Clearly something about Steve's comparison of Clint to his old friend had struck a chord with her.
"I can only take this in small doses," Karma added wryly, nodding toward T.O.'s enthusiastic banging on the piano keys.
"Unfortunately, even my patience runs out an hour before the kid goes to bed," Clint put in wearily.
Clint was understating his accomplishments, and Steve wished he wouldn't. T.O.'s birth had brought into the forefront a softness in Clint that had always been there, despite what his outward appearance sometimes communicated, and the gruff way he called his son "the kid" was a thin disguise for how much fatherhood had already changed him.
There was a fizzling sound, and a golden portal opened up in the living room wall. Steve and Peggy stepped back to make room as Sarah emerged from it, giving them all a brief glimpse of Steven and Beatrisa's living room behind her before the portal snapped shut. T.O. abruptly squirmed his way out of Sammy's arms, and ran over to slap his hands against the wall where the portal had just disappeared, dark eyes wide with curiosity.
"Well?" Peggy said with eager expectation.
"Congratulations, Mom and Dad," Sarah said warmly, setting down her medical bag. "For a few brief, shining moments today, you were the proud great-grandparents of 25 beautiful great-grandchildren." Her smile deepened. "And then a few minutes after that, you got number 26 too."
Steve and Peggy exchanged relieved smiles, as everyone else in the room spontaneously applauded and whistled their approval.
"Any surprises?" Steve asked when everyone had quieted down a bit.
"Boy and girl, as expected," Sarah said breezily. "Beatrisa and Steven are naming them María and Nicolás."
"They're doing well?" Peggy asked. "And Beatrisa too?"
"All happy and healthy."
"And how is Steven doing?" Peggy asked.
A soft smile reached Sarah's eyes. "Cried more than the babies did," she said, and then she stooped to pick up Amanda's little Howard, who was tapping her leg repeatedly with a golf ball in an attempt to get her to take it from him.
"Hey kiddo," she said, giving him a kiss on his red hair before taking the ball from him. "Oooh, very nice. Is this yours?"
Howard shook his head wordlessly, and Sarah sighed. "Did someone leave the door to the garage open?" she asked no one in particular with a touch of weariness. She looked Howard in the eye. "Hey kiddo, did you get into Grandpa Dave's golf bag?" Howard shook his head again vigorously, but Sarah looked more than a little skeptical. "Show me where you found it, honey." She put Howard down and followed him as he eagerly charged out of the room with his chubby toddler legs.
Sammy slid back onto the piano bench, and smiles could be seen widening around the room when she played the opening chords to "What a Wonderful World."
Peggy wrapped one arm around Steve's waist and leaned up against him, and he readily put his arm around her shoulders and smiled down on her while the music played.
"It really is a wonderful world," Steve said.
Peggy smiled a little. "At the moment."
"I'll take it. For as long as it lasts."
Peggy's smile deepened, but then she looked a little sad and said, "I suppose the twins will be our last."
"Probably," Steve agreed after a beat. Beatrisa and Steven had been ecstatic to find out they were having twins, not least of all because Beatrisa was approaching the age when childbearing became riskier. They had been grateful to get two in one shot, and wouldn't likely try again. Their older grandchildren seemed to be done building their families, too, and Clint and Karma had been crystal clear that one was more than enough for them.
"No Anthony," Peggy said.
"No Anthony," Steve repeated with a tinge of regret. The grandkids had all refrained from using the name at Harrison and Christina's request. They'd been hoping to have the honor, but when child number 3 came and turned out to be a girl just like her two older sisters, they had good-naturedly accepted defeat. Now there wouldn't be a Tony Carter until the next generation. And that would be a while to wait.
"Remember when we had our twins?" Peggy asked softly.
He brushed a strand of gray hair back from her face and let his expression show her his answer.
"It doesn't seem possible that it was 65 years ago," Peggy continued.
"We're getting old," Steve agreed, and Peggy nudged him with her shoulder.
"Speak for yourself," she said. "I'm only 92, while you are a very ancient 105. You've practically robbed the cradle."
"That's hilarious."
"Remember how tiny Sarah and Mikey were?" she said, eyes going distant.
"Always felt like I might break them by accident," Steve admitted.
"You were so gentle with them. Even more than you were with me. But they turned out to be not so breakable." Peggy gazed into his eyes for a long moment. "They're so much like you."
"That's funny. I was thinking today how much more they were like you."
Sammy had circled back to the beginning of the song by now, and this time she began to sing the words softly, too.
"I see trees of green, red roses too," she sang. "I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself: what a wonderful world..."
Steve took Peggy's right hand in his left, and then it was the most natural thing in the world for them to start swaying to the music. Sammy's little Hope stared up at them wide-eyed for a long moment, watching, and then she imperiously grabbed her brother Wong's hands and made him dance with her, pulling him round and round in circles without much regard to the rhythm of the song.
"...they're really saying: 'I love you,'" Sammy sang gently. "I see babies crying. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more-"
Suddenly there was a loud clonking sound, and the music abruptly stopped as Sammy pulled back from the keys and stared down at her feet in surprise and dismay. There was a loud uninhibited giggle, and then T.O. emerged from under the piano, clutching one of the foot pedals in his hands with a delighted expression on his little face.
"Thor Odinson Carter!" Karma said in tones of horror, and she snatched the pedal away from him, hesitated for a second as she looked at it uncertainly, and then she dived under the piano to see if she could reattach it. Immediately Sammy ducked under the piano and started trying to help Karma. Everyone else in the room watching seemed to have difficulty deciding whether to be concerned or amused.
Steve and Peggy exchanged glances.
"He's very strong," Steve said mildly.
And then they shrugged their shoulders and resumed dancing, no music required.
July 4, 2011
"Dad? You wanted to see me?"
Steve turned to see Sarah standing at the doorway of the living room, holding a file in her hands.
"Yeah," he said. "Come on in."
"Where's Mom?" she asked curiously, looking around the otherwise empty room as she entered.
"Mike took her to visit an old friend of mine," Steve said.
"Without you? On your birthday?"
"She said it was fitting." He glanced at the file in Sarah's hands. "What's that?"
"I had a question for you, too," she confessed. "You can go first, if-"
"No," he said quickly. "You first." He patted a spot on the couch next to him, and Sarah came and sat down.
"I was wondering if you could look at these," she said, handing him the file, "and let me know if you recognize any of them."
He opened the file and looked at the photos one by one, leafing through them slowly. They were all professional photos of doctors. He didn't know the first few, but it didn't take him long to find the one that he did: a middle-aged woman with straight dark hair and glasses.
"That's the one," he said, handing it back to Sarah.
His daughter's smile had a tinge of relief to it. "From New York?" she asked knowingly.
He nodded. "She was the supervising physician at Manhattan Headquarters the day I was revived. Dr. Kathleen Stacey. Is she one of your employees?"
Sarah nodded. "She runs our clinic in Minnesota. I kinda... made a list of all my healers who I thought I could trust with your life. I figured if you recognized any of them..."
"Smart girl," Steve said, reaching up to pat her cheek proudly. "Well, you picked a good one. She took real good care of me. I think your mother's mentioned before how much I hated being a lab rat back at Camp Lehigh. Always getting measured and poked and prodded." Sarah smiled at him a little sadly. "Anyway, Dr. Stacey didn't do that," Steve continued. "I guess maybe someone warned her about that."
"I guess someone did," Sarah said with a slight smile. "Okay, well, I'll ask her if she's willing to apply for a job at S.H.I.E.L.D. and tackle an undercover assignment. Thanks, Dad."
"You're welcome."
"So what did you want to talk about?"
Steve paused for a long moment. "In a few days, your mother's going to hold a Captain America Club meeting... without Captain America."
Sarah smiled enough for a rare glimpse of the dimple in her cheek. "Would you actually want to be there, Dad?"
"You know, every time I think about leading a meeting to plan my own rescue, it feels a little awkward," Steve said, straight-faced.
"Can't say I blame you."
He grew more serious. "You've read my notes by now?"
She nodded readily. Steve had finished writing down every experience he had had during his 12 years in the future that he suspected may have involved an undercover family member helping the cause from behind the scenes, and a few days ago he and Peggy had distributed a copy to each adult member of the family.
"Your mother's going to ask for volunteers at the meeting," Steve said. "There's just one catch. There are a few times where I know exactly who was helping out. I remember seeing Maggie not long after the Snap, for one thing. So that means she can't volunteer to bump into me some other place and time. I would have noticed a recurring face."
"Right," Sarah said, understanding.
Steve pulled several slim stapled booklets off the coffee table and handed them to Sarah. "These are a few experiences I had that I didn't include in the copies I gave to everyone else. They involve some of your children, and it's important that they read this before the meeting, but they'll need to be discreet, because I..." Steve hesitated for a long moment. "I can't really discuss this with your mother."
Sarah went still, and her blue eyes stayed unmoving on his face for a long moment, the papers motionless in her hand.
"Dad..." she said at last. "Last I heard, you had told Mom everything-" She swallowed visibly. "-everything about the future, except her own death."
"Yeah," Steve said softly.
Sarah looked down and rubbed her forehead slowly for a long moment.
"You must have gone to her funeral," she whispered, looking down at her hands with bleak eyes. "I always kinda figured... I mean, she's 92 now. I don't think any of us really expected her to be around for..." She took a deep, steadying breath and blew it out slowly. Then her shoulders straightened and she lifted her chin, brushing back a blonde wave of hair from her face. "Well, of course you saw some of us at her funeral." Her voice was stronger now; she was doing a credible job of controlling her emotions. "You must have seen all of us there."
"I didn't," Steve said. "It was a state funeral. The cathedral was full of VIPs: everyone who knew her from S.H.I.E.L.D, government officials, reporters... But the only person there who was introduced as a family member was Sharon. I think there must have been a separate, private ceremony for the family."
Sarah nodded slowly. "Makes sense. Considering how much trouble we've gone to to hide ourselves from the world, we wouldn't have paraded all our kids out in public to say goodbye to-" Suddenly her voice choked, and she gasped softly and clapped one hand over her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes.
"Sarah, I'm so sorry," Steve said intently, putting his hand over hers where it rested on her leg. "I didn't want to tell you either, but-"
Sarah shook her head quickly, blonde waves bouncing on her shoulders. "No, you needed to," she said, trying to regain control of her voice. "We- we need to talk about it. And you're not telling me anything I didn't already guess, Daddy. We all know it'll happen someday. We just... don't like thinking about it." She grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and dried her eyes determinedly.
Steve gave her a minute to compose herself, and finally Sarah gave one last sniffle and then straightened her shoulders.
"It must have been so hard for you, Daddy," she said, looking at him with deep concern. "Thinking that you never got to live the life you should have had with her."
"It wasn't one of my better days, no." He squeezed her hand. "I won't tell you exactly when it happens if you don't want to know. But let's go over this so you can make sure these three don't end up volunteering at the family meeting to bump into me in New York or D.C."
Sarah nodded, trying to assume a more business-like expression. "Okay. That's a good idea. I'm ready."
"Okay. I saw Bram there. He was one of the pallbearers."
She nodded, although she clearly didn't trust herself to speak.
"And I saw Beatrisa. She was there to greet me."
Sarah nodded again, pressing her lips together.
"And... I didn't really get a good look at him. But I'm pretty sure Steven was there. I heard him-" Suddenly Steve was the one who had to control himself with an effort. "I heard him praying over her before the casket was closed."
A single tear slowly slipped down Sarah's cheek, and she brushed it away with the palm of her hand." Okay," she whispered. "I'll talk to them. I'll take care of it."
"Thank you." He squeezed her hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Sarah tried to smile. "You did without me for 40 years, Daddy."
"I know. And it was terrible."
"Oh, stop. You did fine."
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I just didn't know what I was missing."
Peggy waited alone in the dimness of Phil Coulson's apartment, the only illumination in the room coming from the window, where the Fourth of July fireworks could be seen bursting red, blue and silver in the night sky over the National Mall.
It was just enough light for her to see the photo frame that had been given a place of prominence on Coulson's side table: a beautiful dark-haired woman dressed in concert black, posing with a cello. Peggy found her eyes continually drawn to it. The image left her feeling by turns uplifted... and also heavy-hearted. The cellist had the kind of light in her eyes that shone through even in a photograph, and it wasn't hard to feel happy on Coulson's behalf.
Nor was it difficult to feel the sting of injustice for the way it was destined to end.
Finally, Mike's voice came in softly through her earpiece, and Peggy straightened up in response.
"Mom?" he murmured. "He's here."
Less than a minute later, she heard a key turn in the lock, and footsteps entered the apartment.
Peggy waited patiently, and when Phil Coulson came into the room and switched the light on, she met his eyes calmly as a comically startled expression crossed his face, and in a flash he had his gun out and pointed at her.
A few seconds later, it seemed to register with him that the person sitting motionless at his kitchen table was an unarmed old woman, and a few seconds after that he seemed to recognize her face, and then he looked even more confused.
"That really isn't necessary, Agent Coulson," she pointed out coolly, eyes flicking down to his gun.
"Director Carter?" he said in astonishment as he lowered it slightly.
"Please forgive my intrusion," she said coolly. "I thought it best that we speak in private."
His alertness was mingled with curiosity now, but his eyes flicked around the room anyway as he took a few cautious steps toward her.
"We're alone," she reassured him. "I'm only here to talk. You have my word."
He seemed to believe her, his shoulders visibly relaxing and his gun moving down to point at the floor, but Peggy couldn't help but notice he hadn't put the safety back on.
"I'm honored, Director," Coulson said mildly. "I still remember the speech you gave the new recruits the day we officially became agents." He took another step toward her. "I took notes. It was inspiring."
"I'm pleased you remember," she said crisply.
"I liked that bit you said about war," Coulson said conversationally. "How did you put it? 'I believe in my soul in cooperation, in arbitration; but the soldier's occupation we cannot say is gone until human nature is gone.'"
Peggy frowned, caught off guard. "I never said that. Nor anything like it. Wasn't that Rutherford B. Hayes?"
Oddly, Coulson looked genuinely relieved to hear her say that, judging by the way he reached down and put the safety back on his gun before holstering it with one smooth motion.
"Did you think I was a Skrull?" Peggy asked, suddenly understanding.
Coulson looked startled. "You know about that?"
She tilted her head and gave him a knowing look.
"Oh," Coulson said, looking slightly abashed.
"Have a seat, Agent," Peggy said, nodding to the kitchen chair next to her. Coulson lowered himself into the chair and clasped his hands on the table, looking at her expectantly.
"I've been following your career over the years," Peggy confessed. "Nothing flashy, of course, but you're always there when it counts. Agents as steady as you are hard to find. I'm not surprised Fury leans on you the way he does."
An almost-smile tugged at one corner of his lips, but then he sobered and said, "I assume you didn't come here just to trade compliments with me, Director."
She inclined her head. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"What kind of favor?" he asked.
Peggy took a deep breath and let it out. "I've had a long career, Agent Coulson," she said quietly. "And a longer life. In fact, I seem to have reached that phase when you start to look back at your life and wonder if you did the right things. If you did enough."
"And?" Coulson said.
"I accomplished a good deal in my career," Peggy said thoughtfully. "Gave it my all. I don't have many regrets. Just one, really."
"What is it?"
Peggy paused to choose her words carefully. "I had a dear friend once, a long time ago, who sacrificed his life to save others. Every year, I visit his graveside to honor his choice. In Brooklyn, at Holy Cross Cemetery, beside where his parents are laid to rest." She sighed heavily. "But he isn't there. His grave is empty. I was never able to recover his body and give him a proper burial."
"Captain America," Coulson said softly.
"Steve Rogers," she corrected him. "That was how I first knew him. You know, my friend Howard Stark spent a lot of time and money trying to find where the Valkyrie went down. Eventually, we had to give it up." She didn't have to fake the sadness that pulled down at the corners of her lips; those had been the darkest months of her life.
"We were limited by the technology of our time," she continued after a beat. "But I've often wondered, in the years since, if a new search might prove more fruitful. There must be better information now about the geography and weather patterns in the region. Better scanning equipment. More researchers and travelers in the region to keep an eye out for old wreckage."
Understanding dawned in Coulson's eyes. "You want me to find the Valkyrie?"
"You have Fury's ear," Peggy said matter-of-factly. "You can persuade him to resume the search. Consider it my final request, director to director... although I would prefer you didn't mention my involvement."
Coulson took a long moment to answer.
"Look, Director, I agree with you," he said at last. "Captain America deserves a better resting place. To tell you the truth, he's always been a... bit of a hero of mine. He inspired me to join S.H.I.E.L.D." His shoulders moved up and down in a quick sigh. "But I know what Fury will say. That's a lot of time and expense just to recover a body."
"It isn't only his body, is it?" Peggy pointed out. "It's the Valkyrie herself. That ship still holds the remnants of Arnim Zola's inventions. The ones he used to harness the power of the Tesseract. Would that be worth something to Fury?"
"Why would it be?" Coulson asked blankly.
Peggy leveled her gaze at him. "Don't play that game with me, Agent Coulson," she said with a hint of sternness. "I invented it, you know."
He looked properly chastened.
"I know the Tesseract fell back into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands after Dr. Lawson's death," Peggy said smoothly. "And I don't suppose Fury left it to collect dust in some vault, did he?"
Coulson didn't say anything, but he hardly needed to. They both knew Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. was already set into motion.
"Arnim Zola was a genius, far ahead of his time," Peggy said, leaning forward and matching Coulson's body language. "Surely S.H.I.E.L.D. could benefit from studying his designs?"
"That might tempt the Council," Coulson admitted after a beat. Then he nodded once, looking determined. "Okay, Director. You win. I'll talk Fury into it."
"You'll find Steve?" she said, relief blooming, and then quickly pressed her lips together in dismay. She hadn't meant to refer to him that way, but for half a moment she had forgotten she was speaking as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and not a wife. She'd been the one for so much longer than she'd been the other.
Coulson nodded firmly. "If he can be found, we'll find him. You have my word."
She reached out and impulsively squeezed his hand where it rested on the table. "Thank you, Mike. You don't know... what this means to me."
He blinked at her a few times, looking faintly confused, but then his expression softened and he patted her hand in return.
"Happy to help," he said gently.
July 8, 2011
A few days later they gathered in the shady backyard of Mike and Tien's new home in Berwyn, Pennsylvania, just outside of Philadelphia, where a ring of chairs had been placed under the shade of a yellow poplar tree.
There were 23 of them now: every adult in the family except Steve. It felt strange to be meeting as a family without him, and Peggy kept catching herself turning to look at him, or almost reaching her hand out to hold his, only to belatedly remember that he was back in Winchester.
And so she clasped her hands in her lap and waited a few minutes for everyone to settle into their seats, smiling a little at the animated way everyone was catching up with each other and reluctant to put a stop to it.
But at last she cleared her throat loudly to catch everyone's attention... and promptly went into a coughing fit. Bram slipped out of his chair beside hers and went in the house, only to come back promptly with a glass of water.
"Thank you, darling," she said once she had quieted the cough, and he took the glass back from her.
"All right, people, listen up!" Bram said authoritatively, and everyone stopped chatting and looked at Peggy expectantly.
"You've all read the summary of what your grandfather remembers from the coming 12 years?" she asked, and many of those present held up their copies, some of them already dog-eared and marked with highlighters and sticky notes.
"As you can see, we've divided Steve's record into four phases," Peggy began. "The first is getting him through the difficult period after he wakes up from the ice and before Loki's incursion. I expect these missions will be among the safest for us to carry out. No one but S.H.I.E.L.D. knew of his return, and it will largely be a matter of providing support and helping to ease him through the transition in time periods. Once he meets the other Avengers and returns to full duty, he'll be all right for a time, I think." She had to clear her throat a little before she moved on.
"Phase 2 will be preparation for the Hydra Uprising," she said. "We've already begun to lay the groundwork for this: everyone here has already stepped up their efforts to develop their fighting skills, their firearm use or their spell casting." At her side, Beatrisa was turning her newly acquired sling ring over and over in her hands, a faint crease in her brow. "As it gets closer, we'll also need some intelligence work," Peggy continued. "The more we know about exactly what Hydra's doing and when they're doing it, the better we'll be able to respond once Project Insight gets off the ground.
"Once the battle's over, there may be roles for us to play in preventing Hydra — and the authorities — from tracking Bucky Barnes after he goes on the run, as well as keeping tabs on Wanda and Pietro Maximoff when Dr. List begins his-"
Peggy broke off to cough and looked around for her water, but before she could even ask Bram was already putting it in her hand. She took a sip, and then continued.
"All right. For the third phase, we need to prepare for the-"
She paused for a long moment. Everyone looked at her expectantly. Faintly embarrassed, Peggy searched in vain for the lost thread of her thoughts. The word was right there on the tip of her tongue. "We need to prepare for the-" she began again, and stopped again.
"The Snap?" Maggie prompted her.
"The Snap," she repeated, relieved. "Thank you, darling." Everyone grew more alert and listened closely. "This will involve a number of battlefronts, from ramping up an expansion of Sarah and Dave's medical clinics to handle the disruption in medical care that will occur, to Maggie taking lead to build the infrastructure that will be needed for a massive new demand in adoption services. These are long-term projects, not particularly risky but nevertheless incredibly important, and I imagine we'll need quite a few hands to assist."
Peggy grew more sober. "We'll also need to make plans within each of our own families to make certain everyone is prepared both emotionally and practically for the loss of half our numbers. As much as we are determined to take care of the rest of the world, we won't be able to do so if don't take care of our own needs as well."
Despite the worry in everyone's eyes, there were also chins going up with determination and she was heartened to see it... but her voice was growing raw and she knew she was talking too much. "Tell them about Phase 4," she prompted Mike hoarsely, taking another sip of water.
"Phase 4 is getting through the Decimation." Mike smoothly took up the thread. "Keeping the medical and adoption services running as planned. Doing what we can to help the Avengers cope with their failures."
"Can we?" Joe said with some skepticism. "We all know what Grandpa's told us. Nothing's gonna make that right again until Scott Lang shows up."
"There will be limits on what we can do," Mike agreed. "We know Maggie will have an opportunity to give Natasha Romanoff some support, and that's something. We're less worried about Tony Stark — by then he'll have a family — but the situation with Hawkeye and Thor in particular has us pretty concerned. I think there's some space for us to work there."
"What about Grandpa?" Joe asked. "And Bruce Banner?"
"Them too," Mike confirmed. "We've been wondering about Bruce's second transformation. We've got some members of our family who are probably more qualified than anyone else on this planet to assist him in the lab. And it goes without saying that we won't desert dad." He ran his hands through his hair with a deep frown, and Peggy couldn't help but notice that his dark hair was beginning to be touched with gray at the temples. Somehow, that made her feel older than her own growing aches and pains.
"Anyway, the last step is to ensure that the final battle with Thanos ends like it should," Mike continued, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "After that, well-" He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Our knowledge of the future ends there. No more Prevengers."
"Guess we'll just have to go back to our day jobs," Bram quipped.
"I think we'll be ready for a break," Harrison agreed wryly. "It exhausts me just thinking about all this."
"First things first," Peggy said. "Let's concentrate on Phase 1 for now, since it's only three months away. I've already put Phil Coulson on the case to ensure Steve is found in the Arctic, and I know Mike and Sarah are making a plan to see that his revival goes as it should. What about his transition period? We need to ensure he's emotionally stable enough to be ready when Fury calls him up to face Loki."
"The biggest trick is gonna be staying out of Sharon's way," Harrison put in. "We know Fury will assign her to keep an eye on Grandpa. That's gonna be a problem, because obviously she'll recognize any one of us on sight." He gestured around the circle meaningfully.
"She can't watch him 24/7," Mike said. "She'll have a team helping her."
"So we make our moves when she's off the clock," Harrison said.
"-which means the trick is knowing when she's off the clock," Mike continued.
"-which means we have to spy on the spy," Harrison finished.
"So we tap into Sharon's phone," Sammy said.
"Her high-security, S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued phone?" Harrison said skeptically.
Sammy shrugged. "Piece of cake."
Harrison laughed, and slapped his sister's knee with hearty approval.
"Then all that's left is to decide which of us will help Steve in what way," Peggy said. "You've all read through the packet. You know about the various strangers who intervened to help him when he was struggling. It's possible not all of them were us, but I feel certain many of them were. Are there any volunteers to play these parts?"
There was a long silence. Everyone seemed to be looking at each other to start off.
"Steven?" Peggy prompted. "I thought you would be the first to step up."
Steven paused for a moment before answering. "I look so much like him, Grandma," he said gently after a beat. "Probably best for me not to show my face. But this-" He held up a page from Phase 2. "This one must have been me working behind the scenes. My mentor from divinity school, showing up as Grandpa's priest in D.C. a year from now? Too crazy for coincidence."
"Any ideas how you'll manage to wrangle that?" Peggy asked.
Steven shrugged. "Father Andreassen's actually told me a few times that he thinks about leaving academia. He's worried about losing touch with ordinary people. Says he misses his old days running a parish. So I can try giving him some nudges in that direction."
Peggy nodded as she made a note of it. "Good. All right, who else?"
"I'll do this one," Sammy spoke up eagerly, holding up the first page. "The Christmas one."
Peggy smiled. "Yes, I thought that one had you written all over it, darling." She wrote that down too.
"I'll be the moving guy," Dave jumped in, and then from Sammy's side, her husband Saul spoke up: "I'll be the guy in the bar."
There was a short silence as Peggy wrote that down, and then Bram nudged Clint with his elbow.
"What?" Clint said, sounding slightly irritated.
"Dude," Bram said. "Did you read page 8? That's you. All the way."
Clint laughed humorlessly. "Sorry, guys. You know I don't do 'Prevenging.'"
"This isn't just Prevenger stuff," his brother Harrison pointed out. "It's for Grandpa."
Clint glared at him. "No kidding. I hadn't realized."
"Clint, it happened in Philadelphia, probably right here in this house," his sister Natty said a little more gently. "I mean, he remembers your name."
"Coulda been another Clint."
"Oh, stop! You know it wasn't."
"Seriously, guys!" Clint said, a sudden anger flaring. "I don't do this stuff. I have no idea why you even bring me to these meetings. I mean, I have a job, I have a kid, I have a life!"
"We all do!" Bram shot back, looking simultaneously bewildered and annoyed. "Are you seriously saying that you won't lift a finger to-"
"All right, that's enough," Peggy broke in before Clint could respond, seeing that he was looking nearly apoplectic. "That one's still a few years away. We have time to work out the kinks. Let's move on to some of these other ones."
Clint slouched down in his chair with his legs stretched out straight in front of him, and stared fixedly up at the sky. There was a long awkward silence.
"I'll do this one," Karma said into the silence, and suddenly everyone else in the circle sat up a little straighter and looked at her in surprise, Clint most of all. Karma looked a little taken aback at their reaction, but she held up her paper anyway and pointed at one of the paragraphs. "The woman in the bookshop," she said, trying to look confident. "I... I think that one was me."
"I hadn't thought of that," Peggy said slowly. "Are you certain? Perhaps-"
"The things she told him about her family?" Karma said. "I know I... don't really talk about them with you all. And I know I've never done a... a mission, I guess. If you can call this that. But I- I wanna try. And I'm gonna... I'm gonna do my best." She nodded her head firmly, although it looked like she was trying to convince herself as much as the rest of them.
"All right," Peggy said at last, as everyone else to fought to cover their surprise. Clint was looking at Karma with an expression of open betrayal. "Yes. I'll put you down. We can go over the details when it gets a little closer. Thank you, Karma. That's very kind of you."
They spent the next little while working out more details, and then the meeting wrapped up as some headed to the kitchen to bring out cold drinks and others broke off into smaller groups, taking advantage of this rare opportunity to have adult conversation without the kids driving them all to distraction. Peggy got up from her chair and made her slow way over to Clint, who was sitting alone, hunched in his chair and staring at his cell phone.
She sat down next to him and patted his knee, and after a moment he reluctantly put his phone away and turned to face her.
"Clint, you are closer to your grandfather than perhaps any of your siblings and cousins," Peggy pointed out gently. "And I know very well that you want to help him. What's holding you back?"
Clint looked down and scratched the back of his neck. "Can't believe you even have to ask that, Grandma," he said.
"I can't read your mind, darling."
"It's because I care about him that I have to stay away," Clint said with a sudden passion. "Grandma... I'll just mess it up! Like I do everything else!"
Peggy frowned. "I don't believe you will. In fact, you didn't. He says here that you were a comfort-"
"Which is exactly why I know it wasn't me!"
"You sell yourself short."
Clint let out a noisy breath. "Grandma, do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to be told by some- some oracle that you're destined to do something in the future you haven't even made up your mind yet that you want to do?" He nudged the stapled papers lying on the grass with his shoe meaningfully.
"Have I ever told you about the time your grandfather informed me that he had known all along we would be married, even before I'd made up my mind about that?" Peggy asked wryly.
"You see?" Clint gestured vehemently. "Exactly."
"Clint, you still have a choice," Peggy said firmly. "No one can make you do this. Because you're right, there's a chance that it wasn't you after all. Perhaps we got someone to impersonate you to your own grandfather."
Clint shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"If we did, he did impressive work," Peggy said. "Because what I'm seeing here is very you." She glanced down at the paper. "Compassionate. Humorous. Conscientious. It's all right there."
"I'm not conscientious," he objected.
"Perhaps in a few years you will be. You didn't think you would always stay the person you are now, did you?"
He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "Grandma, this is crazy!"
"Yes, I think you're right about that," she admitted. "I suppose I'm more used to it than you are. By now it feels nearly normal."
Clint looked around the backyard at all his relatives laughing and chatting with each other, and shook his head in faint disbelief.
"How can they be so complacent about all this?" he asked faintly. "One mistake, and they could hurt Grandpa, or- or- screw up the timeline or something."
"They're not complacent," Peggy said calmly. "Not everyone has your brutal honesty, you know. The others, they find it useful to project more confidence than they're feeling. It's a way of pushing themselves to a higher level of performance. I'm not sure that's an attitude that will be useful to you."
"Well, what would be useful to me?" Clint asked with a hint of plaintiveness. It may have been a rhetorical question, but Peggy answered it anyway.
"You might start by projecting the level of confidence you've earned," she said. "You aren't doing half as badly as you seem to think you are. When I look at you, I see a man with a stable job who fulfills his obligations, loves his wife unconditionally and takes excellent care of his child. I see a man who makes everyone around him laugh, who's always finding someone less fortunate to help out... and who shows an extraordinary amount of care for his aging grandparents."
"You're not that old, Grandma," he shot back quickly, but his expression had smoothed out a little, and his back had straightened ever so slightly.
Peggy rested her hand on his knee. "Hey. You don't need to make a commitment today," she said softly. "You have time to think about it."
He nodded, but after patting her hand briefly, he got up and left without saying another word.
TO BE CONTINUED
Here's a cheat sheet for the Carter family, including spouses, children, professions and locations:
Steve and Peggy's children:
Michael Carter, retired S.H.I.E.L.D. agent; based near Philadelphia; Wife: Tien, writer.
Sarah (Carter) Capecci, doctor/magical healer; based in Winchester, England; Husband: Dave, geneticist.
Steve and Peggy's grandchildren:
From Mike and Tien:
Natty (Carter) Ngo, ballet instructor; based in Ho Chi Minh City; Husband: Quyen, engineer.
Harrison Carter; security guard for Stark Industries; based in New York City; Wife: Christina, accountant for Stark Industries.
Sammy (Carter) Demski; software engineer for Apple; based in Sunnyvale, California; Husband: Saul, stay-at-home dad.
Clint Carter; tattoo artist; based in Chicago, Illinois; Wife: Karma, CTA bus driver.
From Sarah and Dave:
Bram Capecci, doctor/magical healer; based in Salt Lake City, Utah; Wife: Aliyah, doctor/magical healer.
Maggie (Capecci) Blackwood, works at adoption agency; based in King's Worthy, England & London, England; Husband: Henry, seeking office as MP.
Steven Capecci, deacon in Catholic Church; based in Rocinha, Brazil; Wife: Beatrisa, charity organizer.
Amanda (Capecci) Wilson; administrator for parents' medical clinics; based in Santa Monica, California; Husband: Rob, LAPD.
Joe Capecci, reporter for Boston Chronicle; based in Boston, Massachusetts; Wife: Holly, freelance writer.
Steve and Peggy's great-grandchildren:
From Natty and Quyen:
Roger, born September 2001
Max, April 2004
From Harrison and Christina:
Carol, 2003
Pepper, 2005
Janet, November 2007
From Sammy and Saul:
Hope, 2004
Wong, 2006
From Clint and Karma:
Thor Odinson, June 2010
From Bram and Aliyah:
Shuri, August 2001
T'Challa, December 2003
Vincent, February 2006
From Maggie and Henry:
James, June 2001
Phillip, November 2002
Scott, January 2004
Aisling, September 2005
Kate, February 2007
Mary, March 2009
From Amanda and Rob:
Wanda, June 2008
Howard, October 2009
From Steven and Beatrisa:
Joaquim, 2004 (adopted)
Rita, 2006 (adopted)
twins María and Nicolás, February 2011
From Joe and Holly:
Bruce, 2006
Hank, 2007
Petra, 2008
Author's note: Feedback is welcomed! Leave a review, good bad or ugly!